


Bagginshield Week

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: A collection of fanfics for Bagginshield Week running from 21st November.My internet is unfortunately dying at the moment, so I will TRY to update everyday, but if not I will post these as soon as I am able.





	1. King and his Consort

**Author's Note:**

> • Prompt Option A: Colour scheme/Palette

It had been an unconscious thing in Laketown, wearing Thorin's colours. Bred from necessity, the only coat they could provide that had any hope of Bilbo wearing it without it falling off him happened to be a child's, old and worn in a velvet blue hue. Somehow, it still needed to have the cuffs rolled back and be fastened with a belt to prevent the fabric gaping awkwardly. 

Bilbo had honestly not thought about any significance to the colour. He had been more concerned over how warm it would keep him what with the terrible head cold he had developed after their impromptu dunk in the river. 

No, the only moment he could recall that had left him wondering had been when Balin had noticed the coat and shared a meaningful look with Dori. The pair had looked positively gleeful, especially when Thorin's eyes had flicked over Bilbo and he had then reached for the dark red tunic instead of the grey that his hand had previously been hovering over.

Bilbo put it entirely out of his mind. As far as he could tell, the dwarves all had their odd little ways and rituals about them and who was he to question them? Besides, he had more important things to consider; like how in all of Middle Earth was he supposed to sneak past a _dragon_ of all things once they reached the mountain.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo did not consider colours and their meanings any further until Thorin was in the throes of dragon sickness. Upon Smaug's death, Thorin had shed his Laketown garb as a snake might shed its' skin, clothing himself instead in the regalia of his grandfather, Thror.

Bilbo could not help but think there was something entirely wrong about seeing Thorin in such stark colours as black and gold, no matter how impressive he looked. 

It was during one of his many (admittedly useless) searches through the hoard with the rest of the Company that Thorin had called Bilbo to his side and presented him with a new coat.

No, not a coat, but a cloak, Bilbo realised as he drew closer. 

"I presumed you might want something a little warmer now we have the means," Thorin began, holding the garment out before himself like an offering. 

Bilbo wanted to argue that with very little rations and winter closing in; they certainly did not have the means. However, he could not bring himself to do so when he could see a glimmer of the old Thorin in the dwarf's steely eyes. A thread of hopefulness was there, and Bilbo would so hate to chase it away with one misplaced word.

The cloak was a very fine thing Bilbo could see that. For all it would be too long on him (but then wasn't everything?) and was clearly old, it did indeed look very warm and durable. The colours were lovely too; a deep rich purple with silver stitching that mirrored the patterns on Thorin's own cloak. 

Bilbo smiled, though the expression was a little tight given his worry over Thorin, but he accepted the cloak all the same. It would be too impractical to wear it whilst helping the others search, but he would certainly wear it at other times. 

Strangely, after this point, Thorin did not seem to wish for Bilbo to help in the search. Instead, he called him to his side more often than not, and although Bilbo was happy to have an excuse to be close to Thorin, at least to try to talk sense into him if nothing else. A part of him worried that perhaps Thorin was only doing this because he suspected him of the crime he was most certainly guilty of.

It was during one of these long stretches by Thorin's side that Bilbo truly noticed the similarities and contrasts in their garments and pondered over it, tracing the patterns of his own cloak absently with a forefinger. Purple and black, silver and gold… they certainly seemed well matched. 

Bilbo could not help but wonder who had owned this cloak before him. Thorin wore Thror's robes after all, but this cloak was not near big enough to have belonged to Thorin's grandfather as well. 

Deciding some things simply were not important enough to worry over, Bilbo turned to the dwarf by his side and rested a hand on his forearm to get his attention and try once more to get Thorin to see reason. 

Bilbo entirely missed the fond smile Thorin sent his way.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo did not miss how Thorin parted with something that looked very precious from his own hoard to gift to him. Nor did he misunderstand that when Thorin hissed that the gold was _"Ours and ours alone"_ he was meaning just himself and Bilbo and could _not_ have been including the Company, considering that he had just branded all his kin traitors. Unfortunately, by then things had gone too far for Bilbo to think on much of anything at all.

 

* * *

 

It took a battle and very nearly, the death of Thorin before Bilbo could consider the oddities of dwarves and colours again.

Bilbo had been wandering a little aimlessly from tent to tent, checking on the Company with their various injuries and seeing what he could do to help when he was stopped by a no nonsense sort of dwarrowdam from Dáin's army carrying a sheaf of papers. 

"You there, in Durin's colours! Confound it who are you anywa-…- ah, Master Hobbit!" 

Bilbo stopped and turned at that, eyebrows raised. "Can I help you, Miss…"

"Ganila." 

"Miss, Ganila." Bilbo inclined his head politely and although Ganila returned the gesture, she wasted no time in thrusting the stack of papers into his arms with little warning either, causing Bilbo to scramble to keep hold of them all. 

"Be a good lad and drop these off to Balin, will you? Need them read over and signed sharpish like." 

"Er yes, of course-"

"Thank ye, and tell that king o' yours to be quicker about recoverin'. Things would be a lot easier to organise with him around, even if he has got his intended helping."  

"S-sorry what was that-?"

"Hm, nothin' I've got work to do and so do you. Well met, Master Baggins." Ganila gave him a hearty thump on the back and was off before Bilbo could ask anything further. 

Like how in the world had she known his name?

 

* * *

 

Bilbo placed the papers carefully on the desk in Balin's tent whilst considering how exactly to go about asking the elderly dwarf what he needed to. 

Thankfully, it seemed Balin could read Bilbo's troubled expression clearly enough and started the conversation himself. "Copper for 'em, laddie?" 

"Sorry?" 

"Your thoughts." 

And in actuality that was all the prompting the poor hobbit needed for all his confused wonderings to come pouring out. Starting as far back as that hug on the Carrock and continuing to include all the strangeness he had noticed regarding colours and Thorin's behaviour both preceding and during his dragon sickness, and then ending with Ganila's odd comments not moments before. 

"Ah, so hobbits don't show their regard through shared colours then," Balin murmured whilst stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Did think it was a little odd how bold you were being…"

"Our regard?" 

"Aye, your regard for each other, using the colours to show that you wish to court. We thought it was rather obvious when you started trading colours in Laketown. Then when Thorin gave you his grandmother's cloak-" 

"The queen!? I was wearing the _queen's_ cloak?" 

"Er, yes." 

Bilbo groaned and slumped into the chair opposite Balin, covering his eyes. 

"So the tunic and coat I'm wearing now-?" 

It was different from his Laketown garb, but a similar shade.

"Durin's colours yes. The colour of Thorin's line." 

Bofur had picked these out for him, and Bilbo was half-tempted to go throttle him… not that he had known that Bilbo _hadn't_ known of course, but still… 

"Bilbo." Balin's tone was gentle and the hobbit felt oddly comforted when the elderly dwarf stood and walked round to Bilbo's side of the desk, placing a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Had you known then what you do now, would you have refused to wear these colours?" 

Bilbo contemplated the question for a moment, and all that had passed between he and Thorin. The small moments of joy and companionship on a perilous quest, the undeniable affection and attraction, he felt towards the brave, honourable, fool of a dwarf. Not to mention the fear he felt when Thorin's mind and then his very life had been in danger, the heart rending sorrow when Óin had declared he had done all he could and recovery was up to Thorin alone, but that his chances were slim. Then the blissful relief that followed as the days wore on and Thorin slowly began to heal.

Both Fíli and Kíli had claimed their uncle was too stubborn to die, but Bilbo could detect the shaky relief in their voices also. It had been a near thing. 

"No, Balin. I would not have refused." 

"And even after all that has happened, would you still accept-?"

"Of course I would! Thorin was _sick_ and- and I've already forgiven him, as I hope he's forgiven me as well." 

Balin's smile was beatific and strangely proud. "You'd best go tell him as much then. I think he will be very happy to hear that there's no reluctance on your part." 

Bilbo was out of the tent swifter than an arrow and weaving his way towards Thorin's healing tent before Balin could do more than laugh at the hobbit's antics.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo found Thorin propped up awkwardly on a mound of pillows when he entered the tent, attempting to feed himself a shallow bowl of broth Bombur had brought him. 

Thorin looked up at the sound of someone approaching his bed and smiled when he noticed whom it was. 

"Good afternoon, Bilbo." 

His smiles had changed since the battle, Bilbo noted. They were still warm, but there was something like concern about them, as if he were worried that Bilbo might run from him. 

He supposed he knew why now though.

Deciding to dredge forth a little of his Tookish bravery once more, Bilbo bypassed the chair situated nearby for visitors, and instead perched himself quite boldly on the edge of Thorin's bed, grinning widely at the dwarf's surprise when he leaned in to brush a quick kiss to his forehead. 

"Have I told you, by the way, that I really love wearing this shade of blue?"

 

* * *

 

Ten years on and King and Consort have many complementing garments in their wardrobe, and Bilbo finds that just as he enjoys wearing blue, Thorin enjoys wearing red. Sometimes they wear both, or from time to time, there are other shades they use for different occasions. Greens, browns, greys, earthy warm tones and cool shades, which complement the other wonderfully and make it plain for all to see that King and Consort are indeed well matched.


	2. Sorry I Doubted You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered what might have happened in the time between where we leave our merry band of dorks on the Carrock in AUJ and where we then see them running for Beorn's in DoS. This is what I thought up for day two of Bagginshield Week using the prompt 'favourite quote' :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Option B: Favourite Quote

_"I am sorry I doubted you."_

_"No, I would have doubted me too."_

Bilbo was not trying to be self-depreciating at all. He simply spoke what he thought to be the truth of the matter. He was a hobbit, a fussy, inexperienced, tiny little fellow with little to offer these seasoned warriors on their perilous quest save for his stealth.

He could not blame Thorin for doubting him up until the moment outside the Goblin Tunnels, for he had done very little to prove himself, either with bravery or loyalty until that point.

The Company, standing behind Thorin chuckled at his words, but Bilbo noticed something other than humour in Thorin's gaze. He was smiling, that much was true, but his eyes spoke of guilt not yet eased and more apologies yet to be spoken.

The sight of the Lonely Mountain on the horizon, and the passing of a thrush distracted them then, and Bilbo found he quite forgot about the look in Thorin's eyes as they discussed their next course of action.

Thorin naturally, and the younger and more eager members of their group wanted to start the descent of the Carrock straight away; claiming that the quicker they got moving, the more distance they would put between themselves and Azog.

Others of course, argued. Gandalf reassured that the eagles had carried them a fair distance from the outcrop outside Goblin Tunnels and so such haste was no longer needed. Dori quietly complained of hurts he had endured from hanging for dear life from that pine tree for so long (and with Ori clinging to his legs no less).

It was Óin's words that held the most sway however. He noticed all too easily how, despite Gandalf's healing magic, their leader was trying valiantly to hide a limp and how he pressed a hand to his ribs as he strode determinedly toward the stone staircase of the Carrock.

"We'll not be goin' anywhere until I take a good look at Thorin's wounds. The wizard has clearly worked wonders, but he is still hurt. We shall stay here today and make our way down this blasted rock face on the morrow."

"Yea, don't s'pose you could have had your bird friends set us down on solid ground like, could ye?" Nori chipped in with a sidelong glance at the aforementioned wizard.

Gandalf drew himself up to his full height and stared down his crooked nose at the dwarf. "Those eagles are not ponies to be directed wherever we so choose, Master Nori. Just count your blessings that they arrived at all."

Bilbo repressed a shudder and refused to let himself think of what _would_ have happened had the eagles not saved them. Instead, he turned his attention to their leader, who was scowling at Óin mutinously for pointing out his injuries. Still, Bilbo was gratified to see that he did defer to their healer's assessment, and had lowered himself to sit on one of the small boulders the rocky shelf had to offer whilst Óin began looking him over.  

It was fortunate that dwarves were so resourceful, Bilbo mused as the afternoon crept onwards. He had thought most of their gear lost in the tunnels. However, it seemed that the dwarves had kept a few items stored on their person, and smaller sacks that had been strapped to waists and shoulders had survived as well. As such, they still had canteens full of water, some cram to eat, and Glóin was quick to make use of the small, twisted trees and plant life clinging to the edges of the outcrop in order to start a campfire for the evening.

It was only as darkness fell and the Company were settling down to some well-earned rest that Bilbo realised he was being watched. Not stared at, no, but every so often the hairs on the back of his neck would prickle as if he could sense someone's gaze upon him. Surreptitious glances at each of their group finally revealed the culprit, who quickly turned away to stare at the darkening sky when he realised he had been caught.

"Did you need something, Thorin?" Too tired from the events of the past few days to even consider politely ignoring Thorin's fleeting looks, Bilbo stood and made his way over to the dwarf king, sitting down easily beside him.

"Er, no, not precisely. I just- I wished to thank you again I suppose. For all you have done."

"It was hardly much." Bilbo could not keep the smile from his lips. Being caught out had wrong-footed the stately dwarf it seemed and this was the first time Bilbo had ever seen him so unsure in the way he spoke. It was quite endearing actually.

"Fíli and Kíli told me of what happened after I lost consciousness. You stood between a bloodthirsty band of orcs and wargs and me to keep me from further harm. Completely alone at that. You threw yourself at them, having had no training, no experience in battle… I do believe that is in fact a _lot_ for me to be thankful for, Master Baggins."

"Well it all sounds very grand when you put it like _that_ , but I can assure you I wasn't even thinking straight by that point. Not that I didn't want to help, but… goodness me, had I been in the right frame of mind I doubt I would have been nearly so brave."

Thorin was smiling again, and Bilbo hoped the glow from the fire concealed his flush at being under such scrutiny. It was a shame Thorin did not smile more often to be honest… well maybe when they had reclaimed Erebor he would. Bilbo would have to make sure he stayed for a little while just to see for himself.

"Shall I tell you a secret?"

"Are you allowed? I mean if it's to do with dwarven culture then-"

Thorin actually laughed and shook his head, wincing a little at the action, but carrying on regardless. "I was merely going to say that _all_ warriors feel fear, and I can safely say that many of us are not 'thinking straight' when we enter battle either."

"Truly?"

"If you would like an example; do you really think I was thinking straight when I went to face Azog alone back there?"

"Well, you have faced him before so-"

"Yes, and I was lucky to survive the first time. When I faced him today I was desperate; I wanted to protect my kin, and I wanted revenge. I certainly was not thinking sensibly-" here he grimaced- "as you plainly saw, my attempt was quite easily thwarted."

It was a conversation that could easily turn maudlin or grim, Bilbo could tell, and so rather boldly attempted a little humour instead to take Thorin's mind off his failure. "Well, if it is any consolation, you at least looked very dashing rushing to defend us like that. Worthy of a heroic tale or two I'd imagine."

Thorin turned his head and snorted inelegantly, but Bilbo caught the flash of a grin hidden by the fall of his hair, so he counted it as a win.

They fell into companionable conversation after that, voices growing quieter as more time passed and more of their companions climbed sleepily into the few bedrolls left or huddled under their cloaks.

After some time, they lapsed into comfortable silence. Bilbo fighting back yawns and watching the dancing flames of the fire, and Thorin attempting to smear some of the poultice Óin had concocted for him onto the cut on his forehead.

A few moments of softly uttered curses and irritated sighs were all that was needed to pull Bilbo from his half-dozing state and realise that without the aid of a hand mirror, Thorin's attempts at placing the mess of herbs properly on the cut simply were not working.

"You're going to end up with most of that in your hair. Did you want me to help?" Bilbo was sleepy enough by now that propriety did not seem like so important a matter.

"Hn, please." There was a cursory glance around the camp as Thorin clearly made sure none of his kin were awake to witness his ineptitude, and then the dwarf was handing the concoction over and turning towards Bilbo.

Bilbo used the sliver of soap he had with his remaining belongings and some of his canteen water to scrub his hands clean before dipping a finger in the strong smelling mess of herbs and flowers and shuffling forward on his knees to reach Thorin's wound.

It was a little awkward, Bilbo admitted. He had to lean in close and brush away some of the dwarf's long hair, and the entire time Thorin was watching him with muted interest. However, Bilbo found he did not feel nearly as embarrassed as he might have if he were fully awake.

"I'm surprised you're happy to let me do this," Bilbo murmured, lips curling into a teasing smile. "You don't seem like the type to blindly trust another with your wellbeing. Not that I claim to know you well or anything, it's just- an impression I got I suppose."

Thorin's lips twitched up a little. "Well, you're not entirely wrong."

"Oh?"

"Before today I doubt I would have trusted you enough to do this. As I mentioned before though, I was entirely wrong to doubt you, and I will trust you and your judgement from this moment on."

Bilbo blinked in surprise and paused in his ministrations to glance down into Thorin's eyes properly. "Is this a dwarf thing? I save you from an orc so suddenly I'm trustworthy?"

"Not exactly, but it did help a little I'll admit. I only wish to say that you have proven yourself ten times over, even though you should not have had to, and I swear I will not doubt you ever again."

"Then what changed your mind if not me swinging a sword at an orc and his warg?"

"Your pledge when you returned to us outside the Goblin Tunnels," Thorin stated simply. "You knew of my doubt yet still you returned. You had no reason to do so, save for your demonstratively strong sense of loyalty and good heart."

"I think- I think you're giving me a little too much credit, Thorin." Bilbo tried to ignore quite how warm his ears felt and chalked it up to being close to the campfire. "It's simply the right thing to do."

"I fear I'm not giving you _enough_ credit."

"Oh hush, that's enough nonsense out of you," Bilbo said primly, cheeks burning and smile threatening to steal over his features once more. "Let me finish putting this stuff on your cuts… you would think Óin would find a way to make it smell a little less pungent, you poor thing."

"And you are not afraid to speak back to me, I admire that… probably need it on occasion if truth be known." Thorin's smile turned conspiratorial and Bilbo tsked in admonishment.

"Why should I be afraid of you? You're not nearly so frightening or arrogant as I assumed you might be."

"You assumed dwarves would be those things?" A flash of… something, hurt perhaps flickered in Thorin's eyes and Bilbo was quick to ease the emotion.

"No, I just thought kings might be. I've only ever read about them in stories you see."

"Well, I am glad I'm not living up to that expectation then."

 Bilbo hummed distractedly and finally leaned back, impulsively catching Thorin's jaw in his palm so he could turn his head this way and that, checking his handiwork with the poultice.

"Well, I'm no healer, so that's about as good as it will get I'm afraid."

"I'm sure it's fine, Master Baggins. Thank you."

Bilbo only realised how familiar he was being, cupping Thorin's jaw like that, when the dwarf's hand reached up and covered his own, thumb stroking Bilbo's skin a little fondly.

"You're- well you're welcome of course."

It was strangely difficult not to gravitate closer still, and Bilbo squarely blamed all this on the exhausting few days they had had. He reluctantly removed his hand, as did Thorin.

"Well if you need anything else-"

"Of course."

Bilbo smiled and nodded, wishing Thorin a goodnight as he went to try to retrieve a blanket for himself in order to get some sleep. He was certain they both needed it.

After all, one does not go from 'I am sorry I doubted you' to-to… whatever that was without lack of sleep being to blame, right?


	3. So this is the Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Managed to finish it on time despite having a lousy day :D go me!
> 
> I changed the canon ending to make it happy as all good fluff writers are wont to do ;P
> 
> CHAPTER WARNING!!! Some brief mentions of violence in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Option C: Master Burglar —-> Bilbo  
> Describe or show ways in which Thorin and Bilbo’s relationship changed throughout the journey and their developed trust between one other.
> 
> I used a popular headcanon on tumblr that Thorin is the trusting one whilst Bilbo is the protective one. Thanks and kudos to whichever person in our amazing fandom thought of that one!

It is Bilbo who starts the change first. That confession of loyalty and steadfast determination to help them outside the Goblin Tunnels; followed by the foolhardy leap into danger when Thorin lays prone and a moment from death at the hands of one of Azog's subordinates.

After such brave and protective actions, it is difficult to stop the changes from happening as fast and all consuming as an avalanche.

Protection and trust in equal measure

Were one to meet the pair and asked to guess who was the more protective and who trusted the other with their life, the individual would probably guess incorrectly. Assuming Thorin as the brave warrior would protect, and the hobbit would trust him to do so.

No, it was quite the other way around, and though the Company were unsurprised by this turn of events, it still amused them somewhat. To see Bilbo Baggins, a tiny fellow from the Shire fierce and ready to jump into any brawl to defend his dwarves, and Thorin deferring to him time and again despite his status as exiled king.

At Beorn's a single nod of Thorin's head was all it took for Bilbo to realise he was being trusted in convincing the skin-changer to let them stay.

In Mirkwood, it was Bilbo who fought the spiders and freed his companions from their sticky, cloying, spider silk prisons.

The hobbit then proved himself further still by navigating the elven king's dungeons undetected for days on end and thinking up a daring plan for their escape.

Thorin trusted that Bilbo would save them, and even when the rest of his kin sought to argue with his idea, Thorin needed only a single look from the hobbit to trust in him and order his fellows into the barrels.

Laketown proved their sense of protectiveness and trust in one another yet again. Bilbo staked his own honour on Thorin's word, protecting him from the barbed words of some of the townsfolk and once they reached the mountain, the dwarf king was simply happy but hardly at all surprised when Bilbo was the one to spot the hidden staircase.

Thorin trusted Bilbo entirely in entering Erebor alone to face Smaug and Bilbo was willing to try.

Bilbo sought to protect Thorin from the deepening sickness by hiding the Arkenstone and Thorin trusted Bilbo above all else, even his own kin.

The war loomed and rather than telling Bilbo to flee or keeping him locked in some protected place inside Erebor, Thorin presented Bilbo with a shirt of mithril. A gift, a token, and a sign of trust that Bilbo would fight alongside them.

Bilbo tried to protect Thorin from himself… it failed, oh how terribly it failed.

There was some small consolation perhaps that Thorin had not ripped the mithril shirt from him as he cast him out. Perhaps there was some glimmer then, some tiny hope that Thorin cared still. It was an infinitesimal measure of comfort as Bilbo followed miserably at Gandalf's heels as Dáin's army arrived.

 

* * *

 

He needed to be with them, to protect them, to warn them all if he could. That was the only thought that sustained Bilbo as he dashed from Dale up to Ravenhill, faster than he had ever had cause to run in his life. He was gasping for breath by the time he reached them.

 _Not them, please not them. Not Fíli, not Kíli, not Dwalin, please. Please not Thorin._ _Don't let them be killed, please._

"Bilbo." No hatred, no anger. Simply relief and muted joy. Had he shaken free of the sickness? Hope surged.

"We need to go."

Dwalin argued. Thorin disagreed with his shield-brother. Trusted Bilbo despite the betrayal he had suffered mere hours before.

He hadn't been fast enough.

Fíli was caught in the clutches of Azog, held aloft from one of the crumbling towers of Ravenhill.

Horror, despair.

But Fíli was spared the worst by the timely arrival of Tauriel and Legolas. A well-placed arrow to Azog's good arm shocked him into dropping Fíli before he could impale him.

The fall was a bad one, but not enough to kill a dwarf.

Kíli ran recklessly into the thick of things with a vengeful yell, Tauriel and then Legolas quickly joining him. Thorin went to follow with a warning cry on his lips, but was torn between stopping his youngest nephew from taking such a risk and helping his elder nephew lying injured on the icy ground.

Dwalin shouted for Thorin to follow and, unable to keep Fíli still as they should and wait for aid in the heat of battle, the burly warrior lifted him as carefully as he could, retreating from a fight for perhaps the first time in his life in order to take the prince to a healer.

Bilbo was at Thorin's side in a moment. If Dwalin could not be here to protect Thorin, then he would do so in the warrior's place. Side by side, the pair ran the way Kíli had gone.

He would protect, and Thorin would trust.

"Please tell me you still wear the mithril."

"I'm not nearly daft enough to risk removing it when there's been a battle brewing for the better part of a week, no matter what happened between us."

"I would apologise-"

"There's no need, Thorin. If you really feel you must, you can do it once all this is over and we're sat in front of a nice cosy fire with a cup of tea and a pipe."

Thorin's huff of laughter is incredulous but oddly fond, and as they reach the frozen river atop Ravenhill, he tugs Bilbo closer to his side.

"Stay close, do not let any enemy separate us, we will be stronger together."

Bilbo nods, tightens his grip on Sting and the pair step out to face Azog together.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Bilbo's protectiveness nearly spells his own end. They have been separated after all and Bilbo can see that Thorin is badly wounded, borne to the ground and fighting to stave off the wicked curve of Azog's blade with his own. He can see the resignation in Thorin's eyes and Bilbo desperately pushes himself to his feet having been thrown to the ground by the orc and presumed unconscious it seems.

Bilbo will not be able to cross the distance in time; he picks up a large rock, weighs it in his hand and hurls it at the orc's head with a shout of rage.

The rock hits and draws blood but is not enough to knock the orc out as he had hoped. It does however enrage him enough that he turns away from Thorin to lunge for Bilbo instead.

Bilbo shrieks, raises Sting too late, and feels as if a battering ram has hit him square in the chest. It is enough to wind him badly, but the mithril does its job and prevents Azog's blade from piercing him or the force of it from damaging his ribs.

Azog snarls when he realises the blade has not killed Bilbo and grabs him by the throat, intending to lift him bodily from the ground and finish him off.

A stupid mistake, Bilbo thinks as spots dance in his vision. Injured or not, Azog has foolishly forgotten about Thorin in his blind rage.

It is a mistake he will not live to regret.

Thorin's sword cuts through the orc's flesh as if through butter and Azog barely has time to realise what has happened before he falls to the ground and releases his hold on a coughing, gasping Bilbo.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo is equal parts admonishing the dwarf and thanking him in a voice hoarse and raw as he presses his coat to the sluggishly bleeding wound in Thorin's side.

Thorin assures him he is fine but Bilbo will protect him even from his own stubbornness in this, and of course, Thorin trusts him to do so.

By the time they reach the healing tents courtesy of one of Gandalf's eagles, Thorin looks pale and worse for wear, but Óin assures the fretting hobbit that it is more exhaustion than the wound causing it. Providing they can keep infection at bay, which thanks to the presence of the elves is very likely, Thorin will be fine.

Fíli and Kíli are in the tent also. Fíli is still unconscious, and Óin warns that though his mind is sound and there is no internal bleeding anywhere, it will take a long time before Fíli can use his legs again.

Kíli too has been injured, a stab wound like his uncle, and he has taken enough pain relief to offer them a wide grin and claim that he and Thorin 'match'. Tauriel rolls her eyes but she seems overjoyed to be by his side.

It takes Bilbo a little while to notice that he has laced his fingers with Thorin's and Thorin has not pulled away.

The dwarf smiles up at him tiredly when Bilbo glances at him and speaks his name with quiet reverence.

Despite everything, Bilbo's cheeks warm and he smiles in return. He has come a long way from being called a grocer, a halfling, Master Baggins or Master Burglar.

He thinks he likes Thorin calling him Bilbo best of all.

He tells him as much and Thorin vows to call him this and any number of endearments for all time, if he will allow it.

Bilbo claims Thorin is letting the pain relief talk just as his nephew is, but Thorin swears his words are true.

Bilbo trusts him and he is right to do so, Thorin vows the protect Bilbo's heart from hurt forever more and Bilbo laughs but agrees to it.

They will heal, their relationship wonderfully changed, and Bilbo will someday write a book in which they live happily ever after until the end of their days, and they do.


	4. There and Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I'm quite tired today, so this is a very quick and slightly sloppy chapter as I managed to fall asleep half way through writing it... oops!
> 
> Still, I got it done on time, yay! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Prompt Option A : Life in the Shire or Life in Erebor? Meeting Dís

The first time Bilbo met Dís was in Erebor.

The dragon was dead and the battle won. The injured were well on the road to recovery, and there was a frenetic amount of activity within the mountain as the Company, Dáin's folk, the people of Laketown, and even some of the Mirkwood elves worked together to repair the damage the dragon had done to the once great city of dwarves.

Bilbo had stayed of course.

How could he not when Thorin had sincerely confessed his love and Bilbo had felt the same all along? He missed the Shire, of course, he did. But if he left this behind; left Thorin and the dwarves he had come to regard as family, left and never saw the restoration of Erebor, he would forever regret it.

So, Bilbo had sent word along with Gandalf to secure his home and belongings and had made a request for some of his more treasured items to be sent along with the first caravans coming from Ered Luin.

He just hoped his belongings would survive the journey and arrive in a better state than _they_ all had!

That day dawned sunny and bright, with just a hint of crisp freshness to the air, heralding the end of summer.

Bilbo was trotting through the corridors after his morning stroll in the little terrace garden he had procured for himself to find Thorin. He ducked and weaved through the bustle of people in the mountain halls with the ease of long practice; stonemasons and smiths, carpenters, and warriors with no real discernable skill in crafting but who were eager to help regardless all doing their best to give their prince-consort-to-be room to pass by.

Hopping lightly down the last few stairs to the level he knew Thorin would be working on, Bilbo picked up his pace a little more and rounded a corner only to nearly run straight into the very dwarf he was looking for.

"Thorin!"

"Good morning, Bilbo."

Months of being around dwarves had eased whatever stuffy propriety Bilbo may have still had over public displays of affection, and so he wasted not a moment in pushing himself up on his toes and pressing a kiss to Thorin's cheek. Thorin returned the gesture with a bright laugh and gently pressed his forehead to Bilbo's for good measure, one hand tangling in Bilbo's lengthening curls and the other in the front of Bilbo's blue and silver tunic.

"To what do I owe this visit?"

"Well I was coming to scold you for missing breakfast anyway-" here Bilbo gave Thorin a calculating look and the dwarf attempted to look innocently oblivious- "but I was just in the garden and heard a horn sound from down in Dale. It sounded like one of your dwarf horns to me. Do you think it is the caravan? They are due after all."

"Ma's here?" Kíli, never one to miss the opportunity to eavesdrop, looked up from his metalwork nearby and shot them both a grin.

Tauriel, ever by his side, smiled fondly and shook her head. She had proven herself to be surprisingly skilled with metalworking also, and so had been happy to join Kíli in his task.

"So it would seem," was uttered by Thorin at the same time as Bilbo replied with, "Well I can't be certain, I'm not an expert on horn calls after all."

"Ma's arrived?" Fíli came sauntering by with a log braced on one shoulder that he was clearly taking to the carpenters. Bifur was working there and Fíli seemed only too happy to help wherever they needed an extra pair of hands.

Where one was the other surely would not be far… Bilbo suppressed a giggle as Thorin rolled his eyes.

"We think so," Bilbo smiled at the eldest prince. "We should go and greet her yes?"

Kíli whooped and set aside his work, standing from the workbench readily and stretching his hands up towards the ceiling, the irrepressible young dwarf did so hate being cooped up in one attitude for too long.

Fíli nodded in agreement and handed his burden over to one of the Iron Hill dwarrowdams who accepted it easily and without complaint despite having another log to carry already.

Fíli and Kíli then took off ahead of Thorin, Bilbo, and Tauriel in an apparent race to reach the front entrance first. Adults they may be, but when together they could always find a way to revert to a younger state of being.

Thorin had confessed privately to Bilbo that he was glad of this. The Quest had not changed them as much as he had first feared.

As they made their way towards the main halls and then on to Erebor's front entrance, they ran into Balin and Dwalin who had come to find them.

"Yer sister's here," Dwalin supplied casually.

"Almost here," Balin corrected and chuckled. "Got to get passed the welcoming committee first. You're already headed to the entrance, how did you know the caravan was approaching?"

"Bilbo heard the horn call and came to find me."

"Figures," Dwalin grunted, a quick smile flashing beneath his beard. "Can't get anything past our burglar."

"Prince Consort," Balin admonished his brother.

"They ain't even married yet."

" _They_ also happen to be walking right next to you," Bilbo responded tartly.

Thorin snorted as Balin and Dwalin fell behind bickering and Tauriel took a step back herself to listen in with interest, long, keen ears surreptitiously twitching at the use of Khuzdûl. She and Kíli certainly had curiosity in common.

Taking this chance, Bilbo voiced a small concern he had been mulling over since he had heard Thorin's sister would be amongst the first dwarves to arrive from Ered Luin all those months ago.

"Thorin, do you think your sister will like me?"

It shouldn't matter, not really, but Bilbo had heard so many tales of Dís since joining the Company that he found that he actually _wanted_ her to like him, for Thorin's sake if nothing else.

"My sister is a lot like me in looks," Thorin replied conversationally. "However, she is not nearly as blind as I am to the worth of others when first meeting them. I'm certain she'll adore you on sight… actually I wouldn't be at all surprised if she attempted to adopt you which would only be awkward for all involved."

Bilbo let out a relieved bark of laughter, because despite Thorin's teasing demeanour, he was in fact speaking sincerely, and that relieved a weight from Bilbo's shoulders he had not even know he had been carrying.

"That's very sweet but I think I'd rather have her as my sister-in-law." He had always wanted a sister.

Thorin grinned and slipped an arm around Bilbo's waist to guide him down the steps of the entrance where Fíli, Kíli, and more of their Company now milled about laughing and talking with a number of Ered Luin dwarves and one dwarrowdam in particular.

Dís was easy to spot. She really did resemble Thorin. She had the same eyes and fierce brow, the same nose, and long dark hair. However, she was shorter and stockier than her brother was, more plump, and her arms corded with muscle. Her beard was not as full as Thorin's, the tuft on her chin more closely resembling Ori's in style, though hers was longer and twisted into a single braid. Her sideburns were longer still though, mingling into her hair with artful plaits. Her hair itself was half pinned back out of her face and her clothes were travel worn but sensible: leggings, boots, a long tunic in Durin's colours, and leather armour. She bore a sword on her hip and a short bow and quiver of arrows on her back.

Bilbo stood out of the way as greetings between friends and family were made and the hobbit noted that though a wide grin never left the dwarrowdam's face, there was a definite sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. She had come so close to losing the last of her immediate family that there was little wonder at it really.

Bilbo smiled as Fíli and Kíli were drawn into tight hugs and had kisses pressed to brows and cheeks. He nearly laughed as Kíli introduced a nervous looking Tauriel, but refrained as best he could for he knew he would be next.

Dís seemed not to care one whit that her youngest was courting an elf, and offered Tauriel as enthusiastic a greeting as her own sons and made the elf promise to take tea with her later so they could discuss their cultures more fully. Tauriel seemed overjoyed at the prospect, which was quite sweet to witness.

When Thorin stepped forward, Dís's countenance altered slightly. She scowled, marched up to him and pulled him down for such a hard head-butt that Bilbo was surprised the pair of them did not keel over unconscious right there and then.

"You bloody fool! You complete and utter idiot! You do realise I've gained more grey hairs in these last few months than I ever thought possible."

Thorin stumbled over apologies and looked so utterly sorry that Bilbo was half-tempted to defend him from his own sister. He needn't have worried though, for no sooner had Dís paused to draw breath was she tugging Thorin into the tightest hug he had seen yet, and if Bilbo spied a few of those unshed tears in her eyes finally falling, he would never make mention of it.

" _Never_ do that to me again."

Bilbo did not want to interfere, but felt he probably should for the sake of Thorin's ribs at least. Dís's hugs looked rather strong even by a dwarf's standard.

"I do hope you will scold your boys as thoroughly as Thorin though, Lady Dís. They were equally as reckless." He piped up stepping forward at last.

Bilbo decided maybe he should have stayed quiet when the weight of that steely gaze was finally turned on him.

He shuffled his feet uneasily, and glowered at Fíli and Kíli who were stifling laughter behind their hands. He hadn't messed this up already, had he?

It was only the sight of Thorin's warm smile that put him at ease as Dís let her brother go and approached Bilbo, looking him over critically.

Bilbo fidgeted as Dís circled him in a way uncannily similar to how Thorin had done on their first meeting.

A smile bloomed on her face.

"So, this is the hobbit." She glanced at Thorin for confirmation and he offered her a wider smile and a nod.

Said hobbit squeaked as he was hauled into a hug as well, though thankfully gentler than Thorin's had been.

"I am _very_ pleased to meet you, Bilbo Baggins. You simply must tell me how you managed to keep my clot-head of a brother in check all this time."

Thorin squawked in mock outrage, Bilbo laughed and decided that he really would enjoy having Dís as a sister-in-law.


	5. Not Our Only Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one! I enjoyed writing this. Thorin and Bilbo working together so well is one of my weaknesses, and I felt as far as advice goes, they'd give each other some very good advice :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Prompt Option C: Times when Thorin took Bilbo’s advice or Bilbo took Thorin’s advice

When Bilbo looked back on those danger filled and unpredictable days of the Quest, it was with some confusion to begin with. There were many a time during their journey that Thorin had taken Bilbo's advice in matters of import. Not at first, naturally… In fact when Thorin and Bilbo had first met, the dwarf had not trusted Bilbo at all, let alone take his word on anything that could be deemed more life altering than what spices to use in that evening's stew. Bilbo had wondered at the change following the fiasco outside the Goblin Tunnels. For even if he had gained Thorin's respect and trust, why would a warrior king of dwarves seek his counsel and often times listen to his opinion even when the rest of his kin disagreed with Bilbo's ideas? 

It was only following the battle and during Thorin and his nephews' slow but steady recovery did Bilbo realise _why_ the dwarf king trusted him as much as he did. 

"Love is all well and good, Thorin, but did you ever stop to consider that it might not necessarily mean that it was wise to take my advice on all those matters?" 

Thorin had confessed his feelings as if it were no more taxing than breathing as Bilbo sat beside his bed in the healing rooms reading one evening. Thorin had been propped up on a mound of somewhat musty pillows that had been scrounged up from goodness knows where in Erebor whilst eating a very weak, bland broth that Óin had instructed Bombur to make. 

"No tough bits, no meat, no large chunks of anything. The blade missed his vitals, but I don't want him eating something rich that will put any sort of strain on his stomach." 

Bombur had seemed a little put out by being bossed around in his own kitchen (well, not really _his_ kitchen, but close enough). Thorin had been even less impressed with this arrangement, scooping up a watery spoonful of the soup and groaning at the sight of only a few very finely diced vegetables amongst the stock to add flavour. 

"Well if you will run around getting holes poked in yourself, what do you expect?" Bilbo had shown little sympathy for Thorin's plight with his food, his tone sharp, but the concern and care in his eyes let Thorin know just how truly grateful Bilbo was that Thorin was even alive to complain at all. 

And the words had just come tumbling out after he had reluctantly swallowed the tasteless spoonful of dinner. 

Bilbo had looked up from his book, startled, but thankfully not upset or disgusted. His cheeks and ears had reddened fetchingly and he had opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water before his slack-jawed expression had morphed into a bright smile and he had returned the confession with one of his own. 

Thorin had reached out then, a smile of his own blooming soft and shy on his face, and taken Bilbo's hand in his, lifting it to his lips to brush a soft kiss to the hobbit's knuckles. 

And that had been that, after everything that had happened to them and between them, it had actually been that easy for them to realise what they meant to one another. 

However, it still did not explain why Thorin had so often taken his advice, and so Bilbo had thought to bring the topic up at some point at one of his next visits. 

This brought them to this moment and Bilbo's question. 

Was that really, what Bilbo thought? That Thorin was blinded by love and so took his advice unquestioningly? 

"You truly think it was my love for you that inspired me to believe your word all those times?" 

"Well, yes, I presume it may have played a part. Bias and all that." Bilbo's nose twitched and wriggled and he was not quite able to meet Thorin's gaze.

"I assure you it was not the reason. Should I feel offended that you think me so easily led?" Thorin teased and Bilbo huffed. 

"I didn't mean it like that-" 

"I know." Thorin gave the hand in his a gentle squeeze; they had often sat in such a way in the days following their confession to one another, and continued. "I listened to your advice on so many matters because it was good advice, Bilbo-"

Bilbo snorted something that sounded suspiciously like 'barrels' and Thorin grinned, but was firm in his opinion. 

"-It truly was. Often there were not many options available to us, but you always found a way even out of the trickiest situations. You have a good and steady head on your shoulders, a clever mind, honesty and sincerity, and loyalty as well. How could I not take advice from you? It took me far too long to see your quality as it is, you should not doubt your own worth." 

"Well… I suppose I did help us out a few tight spots." Bilbo's voice was quiet and the colour high on his cheeks as he smiled at Thorin. 

"Good, I'm glad we agree." 

"I still feel as if I should take your advice in some matters to even the odds though." 

Thorin laughed, amused at the hobbit's logic, and shifted enough to steal a quick kiss from him, though Bilbo admonished Thorin for moving as much as he did when he was still swathed in bandages and quickly settled him back against the pillows again. 

"My advice is a terrible thing to take, ask anyone-" 

"Oh no." Bilbo held up a hand to dissuade Thorin from continuing. "If I'm not allowed to indulge in self-depreciation, neither are you. I'm sure your advice is as good as anyone else's, Thorin." 

"Well… perhaps there is one bit of advice I would give you…" 

"You have some for me already? Very well." Bilbo turned his attention on Thorin fully to listen and was surprised to see how shy Thorin looked at that moment. 

"If you can bear to be parted from your Shire for a little longer, I would advise you to stay a while to see how well Erebor looks as we begin restorations." 

It was Bilbo's turn to laugh and he threw his arms about Thorin's shoulders as gently as possible, nuzzling his face into the dwarf's long hair. "You see, that is some very good advice. I should love to stay longer, Thorin."

 

* * *

 

It _was_ in fact very good advice, 'a while' turned into months, then a year, then two, and Bilbo claimed that Thorin had never specified a time limit, so he might as well just stay for good… This was just as well considering Thorin had proposed to him and Bilbo had accepted. 

Bilbo soon found that there was plenty of other advice he could take from Thorin as well. 

From something as simple as which colour tunic was best to wear to open court: _"The dark green, Amrâlimê."_

To which ambassadors from foreign kingdoms could be trusted and which could not: _"He may seem trustworthy, but I am certain he'd sell his own mother for a handful of coppers."_

Overall, Bilbo felt the odds had been evened nicely where advice was concerned, just like everything else, it was a matter of give and take, and they both intended for there to be very many happy years of it.


	6. Lack of Personal Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew, just in time :3 This was fun! Nothing like the good ol' locking-two-stubborn-idiots-in-a-linen-closet-to-get-them-to-confess trope!
> 
> I do so love that dwaves with cat eyes headcanon too X3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Prompt Option B: Lack of personal space

"I fear I may be in need of new heirs once we get out of here." 

"Please don't kill them. Óin worked so hard to heal them and it really would be a shame to undo it all only a couple of years after the battle." Bilbo's voice was bone dry. 

"Who said anything about killing them? I just plan to disinherit them, the little beasts." Thorin growled low in his throat, hoping that perhaps his anger would carry through the thick wood of the door and to the ears of his miscreant nephews, were they still even on the other side. 

"You know, I really don't think that threat will bother them as much as you think," Bilbo commented mildly. 

Thorin should perhaps be insulted that their hobbit presumed to know his nephews wishes more than he, but found he could not muster up any sort of negative thoughts towards their once burglar. Instead, he channelled his irritation into petulantly kicking the door with his heavy boot and bellowing loud enough so that poor Bilbo had to cover his ears.

"Fíli! I expect this kind of behaviour from your brother, but not you! Open this door at once!" 

"Must you shriek so?" Bilbo glared at Thorin through the gloom, pupils blown wide in the dark and hands clamped over tender ears. 

"I do not shriek," Thorin muttered, but to Bilbo's relief did not return to shouting.

Considering the only reply they received through the heavy door was the sound of high pitched and keening laughter, it seemed like a pointless exercise to begin with anyway. 

Bilbo huffed in irritation at their predicament, but instead of giving Thorin's nephews the satisfaction of revealing he was upset, he took a few moments to look around at their surroundings… Well, he tried to anyway. It was so dark that he could make out little beyond Thorin beside him. Keen eyes he had been told he had, but his night-sight was nowhere near as good as a dwarf's. 

"Where are we anyway?" 

"Linen closet," Thorin grunted shortly. He had forgone kicking at the door in order to lower himself to the tiny beam of light offered to them by the door's keyhole. His face was a picture of concentration as he removed the clasp of his cloak and attempted to use the pin to pick the lock of the door. 

To no avail. 

He only succeeded in bending the pin and swore quietly in Khuzdûl as he cast it aside. 

He was not Nori; such skills did not come easily to him.

Unfolding himself from his crouch, Thorin jiggled the door handle, just in case, but gave it up as a lost cause after that. He supposed he could try simply breaking the door down; it was wood, not stone after all. However, Erebor had been built sturdy and rebuilt even sturdier. He suspected that if he tried he would only succeed in injuring himself and giving his blasted nephews further amusement.

No, it seemed that until Fíli and Kíli decided to end whatever childish game they were playing, he and Bilbo were stuck in here. 

He tried once more, just for good measure. 

"Fíli! Kíli! Open this door. Now!"

Amazing really, he thought absently. How even though they were both adults he still had to scold his nephews like young dwarflings on occasion. It gave him an oddly fond sense of nostalgia if nothing else. 

"Not until you tell Master Baggins the truth!" That was undoubtedly Kíli, obviously the ringleader in all of this.

"What truth?" Bilbo muttered in confusion beside him. Thorin gave him a perfunctory glance, only to see that the hobbit was not even looking at him. Instead, Bilbo had his head bowed, brow furrowed in confusion as he wriggled his nose in thought, clearly unsure as to what Kíli was referring. 

At least they had replied this time. 

"This is foolishness. Open the door this instant and perhaps I'll consider _not_ punishing you with a week of cleaning duty in the healing rooms with Óin." 

There was muffled deliberation beyond the door; clearly, the notion of scrubbing bedpans was a far more potent threat than of disinheritance. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that in the end, stubbornness was a trait all the family shared and Fíli answered his voice bright with laughter and mischief. 

"Sorry Uncle, but this is for your own good. We've waited long enough and the Company are tearing their beards out now. You've danced around one another for far too long. Just admit it to each other and we'll let you out." 

"And kis-!" There was the sound of a furious scuffling, and whatever Kíli had been about to say was cut off, presumably by his brother clamping a hand over his mouth.

"What are they talking about?" Bilbo was glaring at the door now and pointedly _not_ looking at Thorin. 

"I've no idea," Thorin lied outright.

"We'll leave you alone for an hour or two, aye? We'll come back then and see how things are progressing." 

The sound of booted feet starting to shuffle away caused Bilbo to be the one to shout and thump on the door this time. All earlier thoughts of not giving Fíli and Kíli the satisfaction of knowing he was upset forgotten. "An _hour or two!?_ You get back here this instant, Fíli! Open this door!"

Thorin joined in with shouts of his own, Khuzdûl mingled with the Westron so that Bilbo could understand only half of what Thorin said. 

Neither of their voices appealed to the brother's better natures however, and the sound of the pair retreating and laughing faded until all that remained was the two of them there in the linen closet. 

"Well," Bilbo huffed and let his forehead meet the wood of the door in a soft thud of finality. "This really wasn't the way I was hoping to spend an afternoon." 

"I am sorry." 

Bilbo looked up and found that in the darkness he could just make out that Thorin really did look as apologetic as he sounded. It lessened the hobbit's ire somewhat.

"It's not for you to apologise on their behalf, Thorin. Though it does make me wonder if you were ever as much of a terror as they are."

"Not quite," Thorin attempted to sound sincere, but the quirk of his lips gave him away. 

"You're fibbing, Your Majesty."

"Well… perhaps. I was never so bad when I was alone though, only when in Frerin or Dís's company… occasionally when with Dwalin or Dáin as well." 

"You don't fool me. I'm sure you were as bad as both Fíli and Kíli put together."

"I _was_ a prince… and perhaps a little spoilt. So make of that what you will…" 

Bilbo snickered and finally moved away from the door. If they were to stay here for an hour or more, he intended to make himself comfortable at least. 

There was barely any room between them, certainly a lack of personal space, and Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion that if he remained standing he would at some point stumble in the dark and wind up falling on poor Thorin. 

Groping around the shelves until he found a stack of linen towels and some pillows, Bilbo pulled them down and set them on the floor to use as an impromptu seat. The dwarves in charge of the mountain's laundry would probably be displeased, but they could take their complaints to Fíli and Kíli if they had any, he thought a little uncharitably. 

Maybe Thorin could punish them further by sending them down to do the laundry once they were finished helping Óin as well.

Seeing what Bilbo was doing, Thorin stepped up behind him and grabbed a stack for himself, his movements a lot surer in the darkness than Bilbo's and the hobbit had that odd notion that dwarves must share cat blood when he glanced up and saw how Thorin's eyes reflected the weak light from the keyhole.

He had thought as much before, dwarven eyes were strange things in the dark. Thankfully though, they were not near so unsettling as a certain pair of lamp-like eyes he recalled from beneath the Misty Mountains. 

"Pity I don't have a book or a game with me… well not that I could see it properly in this light," Bilbo said for want of conversation as he settled onto his makeshift chair. 

Thorin mimicked him and hummed his agreement. 

"It always surprised me that hobbit eyes are not as good in the dark as our own. You live underground as well." 

"Yes, but in airy, well-lit smials, not in mountains and mines." Bilbo nudged Thorin's calf with his foot to show he was teasing.

"We do not _live_ in mines, Master Baggins."

Bilbo chuckled at Thorin's mock-offended sulky tone and was rewarded with the flash of a grin from the dwarf shortly after. 

It was a pity he could see so little with only the light from the keyhole to aid him. Thorin's smiles were always so lovely to behold. 

The thought made Bilbo fidget and duck his head to hide his blush from the dwarf king. The thought also reminded him of what Fíli and Kíli had said as well. 

He was not quite as oblivious as he had pretended in front of Thorin. He had a very good idea of what the brothers intended to achieve with this trick, but he had a horrible feeling they were quite mistaken, and was equally horrified by the thought that his regard must have been patently obvious if they had picked up on it. 

He thought very fondly of Thorin, but it was quite clear that even though the dwarf considered him a friend, there could not be any more to his feelings than that. He had seemed confused by Fíli and Kíli's words after all, and so Bilbo had played along just to keep the peace. 

Still, he could not help but hope and wonder and so wetted his lips and decided to try something a little foolish.

"What do you think those two mean by locking us in here anyway? They were speaking very cryptically were they not?" 

Mentioning it was probably a bad idea, but Bilbo wanted to try and assess Thorin's reaction, just to see if there was any realisation there at all, and if so, what Thorin thought of his nephews' assumptions. 

Bilbo's stomach twisted momentarily as he considered a negative reaction. Thorin might be disgusted by the very suggestion… well maybe not disgusted… he recalled overhearing something about Thorin likely having a preference for men-folk if he had a preference at all, but that didn't mean he'd like _Bilbo_. He was a hobbit after all, hardly attractive by dwarven standards, not that it should matter to him and it didn't, not really. He had been alone all his life so rejection now should not even matter, but still… 

"I'm not entirely certain." Thorin's gaze flicked away from Bilbo as he spoke. He was lying. 

Bilbo's heart at once rose, and then fell. If Thorin _did_ know, then there was a possibility-… but maybe he was lying only to keep from hurting Bilbo's feelings. 

Bilbo reached up and brushed his longer curls back behind a pointed ear, a nervous habit he had developed, and tried again. 

"They said that you had something you wanted to admit to me-" 

"They said we had something we should admit to _each other_." Thorin corrected and again could not meet Bilbo's gaze, but this time this seemed to be because he was embarrassed rather than because he was speaking an untruth. 

Bilbo's breath caught in his throat and he tried not to feel too disappointed when Thorin turned it into a joke.

"Something to admit to each other… Did you perhaps steal another item of treasure from me, Master Burglar?" 

Old hurts and grievances had long been forgiven, and it was testament to how well they knew one another and got along now that they could joke about it. At any other time, Bilbo would laugh, but he found the usual lightness of heart that came with their banter could not ring true today, not when he felt that old desperation to confess all trying to clamber up his throat and spill free from his lips. 

"Oh yes. I took your crown earlier whilst you napped." Bilbo forced himself to play along regardless. Thorin always had a bad habit of leaving his crown lying around and forgetting where he put it, Bilbo knew it well. It was clear that he had done the same at some point today as he was not wearing it now. "I intended to sell it to Thranduil for some more seeds for my garden; I do hope you don't mind." 

"Miserable rat," Thorin chuckled and his words were kindly spoken and fond, but for some reason his heart did not seem entirely in it today. 

"Did you have something to admit to me then, Thorin?" 

And that was an interesting response. Thorin appeared suddenly very fidgety and had taken to worrying the soft hem of his cloak between his fingers, and he seemed to be determined to look at anything _but_ Bilbo. 

"No- no I haven't-" 

"Oh."

They sat in silence for some time, and then attempted a little less stilted conversation. They discussed a wide range of topics from crop growth in the southern fields, to which newcomers to the mountain were settling in easiest. What gossip they had heard from the Company recently, and what they thought the kingdom should do for the Durin's Day celebrations this year.

And Bilbo decided that this was alright really. He had Thorin's friendship and that was the most important thing. They could laugh and joke, confide and banter like the oldest of companions. He should be satisfied with this, and part of him was, but another part of him still longed for more though he tried to quash the feeling for now.

Thorin, on the other hand was marvelling at Bilbo's bright and burbling laugh as he finished telling a tale of a disastrous prank his nephews pulled one Durin's Day in Ered Luin. They _may_ have been inspired after hearing of his and Frerin's own past exploits, and so Thorin had not quite had the heart to punish them that time. He had left the reprimanding solely to his sister much to her chagrin. 

Bilbo looked lovely, even in the darkness of a confounded linen closet, and Thorin found that even though he relished these easy conversations and light-hearted moments between them, he dearly wished there could be something more to it than this.

Surely, he was not imagining it either, that Bilbo sometimes looked at him in a way he dreamed he might. That when he had mentioned Fíli and Kíli's remarks, he had looked both hopeful and then a little disappointed by Thorin's reply. 

He had intended to tell Bilbo of his regard for him after the battle. After everything that had taken place and with his own mortality still fresh in his mind, he had wanted to confess. 

However, the thought of Bilbo rejecting him, or worse accepting him only out of pity was enough for him to shy away from the idea. Their hurts and trust needed healing besides, and so Thorin had left those words unsaid. 

Months had passed, and Thorin had feared Bilbo would announce his intention to return to the Shire at any time, but that time never came. A year went by, then another, and though Thorin considered many a time telling Bilbo what he truly meant to him, each time fear would stop him short. 

The conversation had lulled again, Bilbo only breaking it to grumble over how long Fíli and Kíli were taking to return and that "They'd better not bloody forget about us and leave us here overnight." And Thorin decided that he might as well use this chance as his nephews intended. He would still punish them of course, but they did have a point. He had danced around this issue for far too long, and he refused to be branded a coward. 

"You know… I do have something I would like to admit to you actually," Thorin began hesitantly. 

"Oh?" This was a different 'oh' than last time, Thorin noted. It held interest and a sort of breathless hopefulness that gave Thorin courage. 

"Just that, I know it wasn't my crown you stole from me." Thorin felt like his face was glowing, such was the heat crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks and he barely noticed how Bilbo's mouth turned down in disappointment before he spoke again. "It's my heart, I think you're guilty of taking from me… and if you were amenable, I would like to admit to taking yours in turn- not that- I mean you don't _have_ to. Please don't feel obligated or- well… there it is." 

That was undoubtedly the worst way he could have confessed. Thorin groaned and buried his face in his hands, in part from mortification, and in part so he wouldn't have to see Bilbo's face when the inevitable rejection was spoken. 

He should have expected laughter, but it still startled him. He did not have time to feel hurt though, because before his mind could even register that the sound of it was kind and loving, and not cruel, there were lips nuzzled to his forehead and arms wrapped around his shoulders as Bilbo left his seat and pulled Thorin close.

With Bilbo standing and him still seated, Thorin found he could slip his arms around Bilbo's middle and rest his burning face against the hobbit's chest. He smiled wryly. 

"You know, I would be very happy to admit to stealing your heart, if you'll admit to stealing mine as well." 

"I will- I do-" 

"I'm glad." 

And there wasn't really anything else that needed to be said at that moment in time. Conversations could come later, once they had a little more personal space. For now, Thorin was quite content to pull Bilbo down to sit beside him in this stuffy linen closet and maybe steal a few kisses until his nephews deemed ample time had passed and came to let them out. 

They had admitted to one theft after all, might as well make this all worthwhile and commit a few more.


	7. Plant Your Trees Watch them Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. The last day of Bagginshield Week. This was so much fun to participate in. I really do love the events we arrange in this fandom, and I hope there are plenty more to come.
> 
> Today is a prompt free option, but I found some good inspiration on tumblr. The prompt written below was a post, and the lovely user shipsicle wanted someone to write it into fic form, so I decided to give it a go :) Enjoy! Hope I did it justice.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read my ficlets and commented. You are all lovely ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Prompt Free Option: Thorin muttering grumpily “I am king under the mountain” every time Bilbo asks him to do something he doesn’t want to do and Bilbo looking at him unimpressed until he does the thing. The other side of this is Thorin having to drag Bilbo's anti-social ass out of various dark corners at public functions like “‘he who walks unseen’ was a nickname not an official title last I checked âzyungâl”

In spring, it was customary for the elves of Mirkwood to hold a festival for the coming of the new growing season. Much like the hobbits of the Shire, the elves, and especially those living in the wild and untamed forests before Erebor, found that celebrating the new life that came after the long, and bitterly cold winter months was of great importance.

There would be plays where elves would wear decorations made to look like leaves and blossoms and act out complicated dances to the delight of those watching. There was the planting of the seeds, where groups of folk would run through the now mercifully spider free forest and plant acorns, nuts, seeds all in hopes of new life springing forth from them. Feasts were held and music played, and fires lit for couples to jump over; a practice that Bilbo was mildly surprised to see considering Shire-folk participated in the same ritual. He had not thought any other race did that.

It was, overall a very merry and enjoyable affair. It was one that following the restoration of Erebor, even some dwarves had been keen on joining in. Therefore, invitations had been sent to the mountain for the last few years now, requesting that any dwarf (or a certain hobbit) who wished to attend was very welcome.

Unfortunately, this kind gesture meant that the king was expected to join his fellows and enjoy the revelry in Mirkwood in a sign of good will and good manners.

And since _that_ meant interacting with Thranduil at least once or twice over the week long celebrations, Thorin _hated_ it.

… There was one small consolation that if Thorin hated it, Thranduil seemed to _loathe_ it. Clearly, one of his aides sent the invitations, or perhaps Thranduil's own son who now seemed to have softened towards his dwarven neighbours, as they did not in fact mirror the Elven King's attitude towards Ereborian visitors.

Still, it did not mean that Thorin had to like the fact he had to attend, and much like his younger relations, Thorin was quite open and vocal about it.

It was the same thing year after year, Bilbo thought with fond exasperation. The invitations would arrive, Thorin would groan, and then the few weeks leading up to the event would be full of a reticent and surly dwarf that Bilbo hadn't seen since the early days of their Quest.

Not that Thorin was openly rude or angry with anyone in particular of course, and especially not Bilbo, but he did seem… if Bilbo dared say it… _sulkier_ than one would expect of a king of dwarves.

It was a manner Bilbo found him in that very evening when he retired to their quarters to find Thorin haphazardly packing what he would need to wear whilst in Mirkwood.

Usually, Bilbo was pleased that Thorin was a hands-on sort who disliked using servants. He had spent so long in exile after all, that returning to his once ways as royalty in Erebor just felt unnatural after a life of looking after himself and others, or so he had claimed. However, Thorin was shoving his clothes into his trunk with such little finesse or care that Bilbo found himself wishing they did have a little help from one of the king's staff after all, the hobbit feared those poor clothes would end up terribly creased by the time they reached Mirkwood without it.

"Thorin, for pity's sake at least fold them."

Thorin grumbled but offered no proper reply so Bilbo heaved a sigh, rolled his eyes at the dramatics and tried a different approach.

"Do you really want to look an unkempt mess in front of all those elves?"

Thorin paused, a slate grey tunic with silver stitching half shoved into the trunk. He removed it, frowned, and folded it neatly instead.

"I do not see why I have to attend this event every year. Thranduil clearly does not wish for my presence there, and I am King Under the Mountain. I should be able to refuse if I want."

"Your being King Under the Mountain is the reason why you _must_ go," Bilbo supplied smoothly, stepping up beside his husband and trying not to grin as he set about packing his own clothes. "You cannot refuse the invitation without causing insult."

Thorin glowered at the cloak he held as if it had personally offended him and Bilbo took it from his hands to prevent it being in Thorin's stranglehold for too long.

"Thorin, if you really dislike it that much, you needn't go-" here Thorin's head shot up and he looked at Bilbo in surprise.- "but at least one of us must attend. If you stay, I shall go in both our places. I will say that you were simply too busy and you can remain here and run the kingdom. I will see you in a week's time."

It was not that Thorin could not be without Bilbo. He was not as _needy_ as that. However, there was a soft undertone to Bilbo's voice that warned Thorin that Bilbo would be rather disappointed in him if he let petty grievances get in the way of what was after all, a very enjoyable festival and a chance for them to leave the mountain together for a few days.

Thorin would hate to disappoint Bilbo, just as Bilbo would hate to disappoint Thorin.

"No, I shall go. You seem so fond of the celebration that if I do not go with you, I fear you will simply stay in the forest and I shall never see you again." Thorin gently bumped his shoulder to Bilbo's to let the hobbit know he was teasing.

"That _is_ a rather tempting thought when you are acting like such a dwarfling, but I don't think I would enjoy life in the forest nearly as much as I enjoy it here." Bilbo nudged back and offered Thorin a cheeky grin.

"Thank goodness for that then."

Bilbo reached over, gave one of Thorin's braids a light tug, and offered him a bright smile. "If nothing else the festival always provides plenty of food and drink. Let that thought bolster you, dear."

"I think I prefer the knowledge that I will get to dance with you."

Bilbo snorted, cheeks warming at the remark, and decided to offer his poor husband a small sort of lifeline at least.

"Neither you nor Thranduil enjoy interacting with each other, anyone with half a mind can see that. Why not let me be the one to talk to him on your behalf this year. We can say you shouted yourself hoarse at the Guild Masters or something and you simply can't manage it."

Thorin laughed at the excuse, but looked as if his name day had come early. "You are willing to do that?"

"Of course-"

As silly as it seemed, this was enough to pull Thorin out of his dark mood completely and he swooped in to pick the hobbit up and spin him 'round gratefully, Bilbo yelping at the unexpected action and then smiling into the kiss Thorin pressed to his lips.

Really, the dwarf would like to learn to get along better with the King of the Woodland Realm, but they clashed far too much for this to be a plausible possibility and Thorin did so hate the tension it caused at events like these. To have Bilbo offer to be something of a mediator between the two made Thorin's mood lighten considerably.

Perhaps the festival would not be so bad this year.

 

* * *

 

And truly the festival _was_ a lot more agreeable without the need to interact with Thranduil.

Thorin and Bilbo had joined in with all the odd elven traditions and found that even the company of elves was not such a bad thing when plenty of food and wine was added to the mix.

Dancing, as Thorin had predicted, was wonderful too. The night made even more amusing when Thranduil had actually tripped on his long robe whilst taking a turn about the floor himself and, for just a moment, the poised and regal ruler of Mirkwood had floundered like a newborn foal trying to find his feet.

Thorin had tried very hard not to laugh outright, and had to stuff the corner of his cloak in his mouth to stop the slightly tipsy giggles from eeking out of him.

Bilbo had noticed though, and had pointed out quietly that it was their turn next and since he had quite large feet, accidents could happen and he could quite easily step on the hem of Thorin's cloak if he did not behave and have him share the same embarrassment as Thranduil.

Thorin schooled his features into well-bred innocence at that, but he still caught the glimmer of good humour in Bilbo's eyes and the way his husband watched the elf stalk off with a suspiciously amused tilt to his lips, so Thorin was not inclined to take that thinly veiled threat too seriously.

 

* * *

 

In autumn Durin's Day would fall.

And if Thorin had to be coaxed to enjoy the elves' festivities, it was Bilbo who had to be coaxed out of his shell in times such as these.

Bilbo loved parties, he truly did, and Durin's Day was a grand one.

The mountain seemed to hum with expectant excitement and happiness as the dwarven New Year drew closer. Decorations were hung; food and drink were prepared, causing the marketplaces around Erebor to fill with even more delectable scents than usual. The tailors would put their finest, brightest fabrics on display, the toymakers and artisans would have the most wonderful trinkets for sale, and visiting dwarves came from far around so that they might experience Durin's Day in the famed kingdom of Erebor.

The sad fact remained though, that as prince consort, Bilbo was supposed to _socialise_.

As a hobbit and as the husband of a king, it was assumed that Bilbo loved socialising. That he would relish the chance to get to know folk from foreign lands, that he'd enjoy meeting and greeting every subject that crossed his path.

He did not.

Bilbo found talking to people that he knew well pleasant enough, yes. He loved to hear tales from far away lands too. However, the constant demands put upon him as prince consort simply exhausted him and more often than not left him tetchy and irritable. In this, he and Thorin were quite similar. Each needed some space after a while.

So it was, that on the eve of Durin's Day, one Bilbo Baggins was nowhere to be found.

Thorin sighed patiently as he scoured the room filled to capacity with merry-making dwarves. As with any dwarvish gathering there was food and ale aplenty, music, singing, dancing, roaring laughter, and the odd friendly scuffle amongst rivals. It was chaos, but a pleasant sort. Thorin could not spy a hint of Bilbo in the throng though.

Excusing himself from Balin's company, Thorin stepped down from the dais and made a circuit of the room. He knew his beloved well enough by now to guess at where he would hide himself.

No magic ring was needed for their light-footed hobbit when he was amongst dwarves. He could sneak up on or past even the most astute of them, especially if their wits were addled.

Around the room, drapes were hung to offer lightness to the stark, dark walls. The brightly coloured and patterned fabric offered a pretty distraction and added to the overall splendour of the Durin's Day decorations. With such heavy, thick fabric, it was easy to see that someone might conceal themselves beyond and so keep out of sight if they so wanted. A dwarf would probably be noticeable behind the drapes, but a hobbit on the other hand…

Thorin approached the nearly indiscernible lump in the fabric and gently poked it, eliciting a small squeak from beyond. The dwarf king smiled, looked around to check nobody was watching, and quickly ducked behind the drape himself.

Just as he thought, Bilbo was there, seated on a tiny ledge at one of the windows, a small plate of food and mug of ale in his lap.

"Thorin!" 

“'He who walks unseen’ was a nickname, not an official title last I checked, _Â zyungâl_.” Thorin murmured by way of greeting, causing Bilbo to frown.

"I'd like it changed to an official title then if at all possible, thank you," he shot back obstinately and took a bite of a pastry in his hand.

"You cannot hide yourself away here all night, Bilbo. There are people who wish to meet and talk with you."

Bilbo groaned, and the sound was so piteous and tired that Thorin felt a little sorry for him.

"I know these kinds of public functions tire you out, _ghivashel_ , but it shouldn't go on much longer. Quite a few people have left already."

Thorin reached out, tucking a stray curl of Bilbo's hair back behind his ear, and then used the opportunity to snag a pastry from Bilbo's plate, earning him a soft cry of outrage from his husband.

"Get your own, you great lump." Bilbo laughed and batted his hand away from pilfering any more of his food.

Thorin grinned and shoved the pastry in his mouth, entirely unrepentant, before letting his fingers curl gently around Bilbo's wrist.

"Please don't leave me to suffer this by myself," he wheedled. "If you truly cannot stand it I can make excuses for you, but I would love to have your company out there for just a little longer if possible."

Bilbo sighed, unable to turn Thorin down when he smiled so charmingly. "Oh, very well. But if Master Varin tries to tell me about his prize war-rams one more time…"

Thorin laughed and tugged Bilbo gently to his feet and out from behind the curtain that concealed him. "I will do my best to change the subject for you."

"Thank you."

Thorin linked their fingers together and led them back across the crowded floor, noticing Bilbo's mutter of, "You owe me a pastry by the way, and a dance."

"Of course, whatever you wish."


End file.
